Falling Angel: Revisted
by Selene08
Summary: Her body and mind were made up of broken glass. She was the daughter of the No-Life King himself. However ridicule and slander bring her down to shambles. Can she be saved? Or will she fall? R&R Please!
1. Prologue: Renosance

_*Jumps out of cake*_

_Hello! I'm back!_

_Wow. I'm so happy to back writing fanfiction once again. I'm so very sorry that I was gone for so long. I have had such a hectic year. Everything from getting a new boyfriend to finishing my sophomore year to my mother having surgery…*eyes get all swirly anime* and so much more. Le sigh. Well anyways, I have decided to rewrite my favorite story Falling Angel for you!_

_For those of you who know me or have read my profile, Falling Angel is in fact an original story. Well…the concept of the plot line and the characters. I incorporated it into fanfiction to just get a general feel of how the public would respond to my characters. Apparently everyone loves them! All of your support makes me so happy! I don't know hat I would do without you guys. When the original Falling Angel is published, I would like to get all of your names so that I can dedicate to you. You were the first people to experience Jack and Keira. Thanks so much for all the wonderful comments!_

_Let's get this show on the road; shall we? This is where the fun begins!_

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Prologue: Renosance

Monster

Just what is a monster? What defines it? Shapes it? Makes it so? What exactly is the difference between a monster and a man? I often ask myself these questions as I lay alone at night. Every time I lay down in the soft grass of my secret garden, I look up at the moon longingly. I ponder its face in hopes that it will reveal to me the answers to the questions that burned deep into my heart. I wanted desperately to know why I was called that horrible, disgusting, putrid word.

It seemed like every question I thought brought on at least three more. With the questions came more name calling. No matter what I did or said I was still called that same name. Over and over again, they would call me a monster. It wasn't a surprise that even when they didn't move their lips to say it, I could still hear it. So even if I was out of their way, I could still hear them. Their voices fell upon me like a harsh rain of pain. It sliced through me in twisted glee.

I couldn't take it anymore. Hearing their words of hatred soon became too much. My heart felt as if it was being pierced by a wicked blade. I did everything I could think of as I lay awake each night, clutching my head in agony, to get away from their thoughts. My skin still stung from where my nails had pierced it. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't eat. I could barely even breathe. I don't think any form of torture could amount to the suffering I endured.

_Why do they call me a monster? What is a monster? Am I monster? Am I an abomination? _I would ask myself these questions time in and time out again and still, no answers ever came. The only thing that did come was the sinking feelings of the heavy possibility that they might be right. My thoughts turned dark and began to bring on a whole new array of questions; of doubts.

_If I am a monster then why do I exist?_

_Why was I even born?_

_Do I have a purpose? _

_Why am I like this? _

_Why am I a monster? _

As the days went by, the uncontrollable echoes of thoughts continued to stream through my mind. They cried out to me in a lullaby of abhorrence

"_Demon child!"_

"_Abomination!"_

"_Filthy bitch!"_

"_Ugly piece of shit!"_

"_Monster!" _

As the last thought hung in the air, there was silence. I still remember trembling on the floor of my room; sobbing. I listened to the silence and in that split second I heard it. I heard the breaking of my own heart. From that moment on I delved deeper into the darkness. I let its warm blanket of evil wrap around me. It slowly began tearing the last strands of hope I had into two.

I began to believe their words; every single derogatory statement. It all just became simple facts of life. Every one of their actions, no matter how cruel, was given the same familiar contentment as a handshake would receive. Because I came to realize that I was nothing more than a hollowed out monster. Monster. Still, even to this day I still wonder why I was born if this was all I was going to be. I was just a monster; a demon child; an abomination. I was unloved. I supposed it didn't matter. Nothing really mattered anymore. I am what I am and I know what I am not. That fact of life will never change.

My name is Keira and I am a monster.

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_I hope you enjoyed that! Comments are always appreciated. It's the fuel that keeps writers like me going. Without it, there can't be anymore story!_


	2. Chapter 1: Just Another Night

_Hello everyone! =D_

_Well here you are...the rewrite of Chapter 1: Just Another Night! I hope you like it. I should have the next chappie up and running for you all soon. Enjoy!_

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Chapter 2: Just Another Night

The night was a frigid waste dump. The wind whipped cruelly around the ruins of the abandoned village. I noticed the soldiers shivering against the cold as they charged forward. Shots rang out through the pitch black of the night. The fact that darkness was beginning to seep into their souls with each kill tore at me. I watched dust fly into the wind with a bored expression on my face. It was the dust of newly fallen ghouls.

I took my time walking through the village. My boots went at a steady human pace. I shot a glance above me at the moon. Her face was half hidden tonight. Which was a shame, considering how beautiful she was. I focused back onto the scene before me. The soldiers were reeling back little by little. Their forces too weak against the seemingly never ending purge of ghouls. I tried hard to grimace. _Pathetic humans. _The bastards couldn't even handle a few ghouls without chocking.

I didn't hesitate as I unholstered my gun. I aimed. I fired. I watched as one by one I took each ghoul out. They collapsed into dust before the soldiers' eyes. I continued to fie away until I saw that they had the advantage. But really I just had to reload; and, well, they were big boys…they could handle it themselves. I reloaded my Sig Sauer SP2022 and smiled. I didn't have many good things in this world, but I did have my gun. It was customized by my Granddad Walter and made into one of the best pieces of machinery I had ever handled. It was small and packed one hell of a punch. I named it Zroya, after the Slavic goddess of war. I thought it was fitting.

I holstered my gun and continued forward. My job was not to deal with mindless ghouls. That was for the grunts. I was here to exterminate the foul little turd who had started this whole mess to begin with. As I walked through the village, sniffing out my target, I took out the occasional ghoul. I tried not to look at their once-normal faces. For it only brought me pain. They had once been people; people with families and jobs and lives. Now they were nothing more than dust on my boot.

I found a tore of shack. The scent that I had singled out earlier was coming from this location. With a shimmer of darkness, I slipped through the door. It was completely dark inside, but it didn't matter; my eyes could see perfectly. I heard the cocking of a shot gun. I looked up from underneath my bucket hat and saw a twenty-something man holding a beat up 12-gauge.

"N-n-n-not a f-f-fucking step c-closer!" He shrieked. I smelled his fear. He was shaking from head to toe in his stupid oversized homeboy jeans and ugly flannel shirt. "Or I'll blow your g-g-g-goddamn h-head off!" _Oh wow. That is such an original line. Sheesh. Can't they come yup with something better? How about "Why hello there, how are you? Could you please not kill me?"? _

I sauntered forward. I unholstered my gun. I wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. The jerk was starting to give me a headache.

"I said stop!" I merely continued to walk forward. My mind was automatically searching his memories. He had been a rather pathetic piece of trash. In a sick way, I was glad I was going to kill him. It almost seemed like a public service rather than murder. _"Stop!_

With a blast, I felt my body recoil into itself on the impact of the bullet. I let out a small whoosh of air. However, I did not fall. I stood there, my hand pressed against a large hole in my abdomen. I pulled it back and inspected the blood on my hands. _Son of a bitch. Can't they at least aim for the goddamn heart?!_

"What the fuck?!" The lowlife screamed. _"What the fuck?!"_

"Oh shut up," I said annoyed as I raised my gun and fired two shots at him: one in the head; one in the heart. He crumbled onto the floor in a pile of dust.

I holstered my gun and suppressed a cough. Dammit. I really hated getting shot. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The bullet hadn't hit anything vital but it had certainly made a substantial hole in my torso. I took another deep breath as I concentrated on making the skin grow back. I winced as the tissue began to grow back. It stung for ten minutes while I reconstructed myself.

I looked over at the pile of black sand and filthy memories then back down at myself. I was covered in dust, blood, and grim. I turned on my heel and stormed out of the shake without a look back. My boots crunched over glass, bones, limbs, dirt, and whatever other horror lay on the ground. As I walked back to the main road, I was stopped by a grunt.

"Did you get them all?" I merely nodded.

"The boss is waiting for you," said another grunt as he walked up to his comrade. I nodded once more. My eyes strayed to where he had his thumb jerked towards. On the main road a shiny bullet-proof white Rolls Royce idled. I quickly made my way over towards it.

"Ten pounds says she doesn't even speak to the boss." I heard one of the men say to the other.

"I don't even think she can talk. I bet she can't even read." There was laughter. I ignored it.

I approached the car and the window automatically rolled down.

"Target silenced. Mission accomplished." I said to the smoking figure of Sir Integra Fairbrooks Wingates Hellsing. Who was an elegant middle-aged woman with creamy brown skin and platinum blond locks that pooled down to her waist. She was dressed in her traditional uniform of a silk grey pants suit and owl glasses. She surveyed me with a pair of ice blues.

"And what of the FREAK?"

"Terminated, master."

"Good work. Return to the mansion at once."

"Yes, master." The window rolled up and I watched the plume of smoke from her thin cigar rise into the air and be cut off by the heavily tinted glass. The smell lingered as the car drove off. I continued down the same path as the Rolls Royce. The chill in the air seemed rather welcomed for my body was hot with adrenaline and the work involved to make a new chunk of flesh.

I had been walking down the main road for only a few minutes when I saw the trucks of the soldiers pass me by. When they had gotten a certain distance from me, I felt a new chill in the air. Darkness suddenly materialized next to me like a swirling vortex of doom. I stopped to look up at the grinning face of my red-clad father.

Alucard, the No-Life King of Vampires.

"Good evening little one," he said to me. His voice was deep and I could hear the sadistic happiness in it. "Did you have a fun time?"

"Oh yeah. It was a blast." I rolled my eyes and continued to walk."

"Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Keira, at least have some pride in your work." I shrugged.

"I do have pride in what I do father. I'm sorry if I don't take as much enjoyment in it as you do." The lie tasted bitter on my tongue. Of course I enjoyed it. I loved it in fact. I absolutely adored the way that little piece of perfect steal felt in my hands. I never grew tired of watching them all fall to dust.

My father said nothing as we continued to walk. "You were injured." A statement, not a question. I suppressed a sigh.

"It was nothing. Everything is fine."

"You are sure?" Father's voice hinted concern. I nodded and forced a small smile.

"Yes father, thank you." He grinned and ruffled my hair through my hat.

"Have the soldiers been giving you anymore trouble?" I hesitated before shaking my head no. I wanted to tell my father what was going on. Something held me back though. I silently wondered if he would be ashamed of me if he knew that I still couldn't even defend myself. I was also afraid he would kill each and every one of them. Men were not as expendable in the vampire-hunting business as they were in a government military program.

"No, not at all."

"I see." I felt one of my father's probes trying to search my mind. But that of course is impossible. One of my flaws was that my head was as dense as lead. Everything seemed to come in, but nothing ever seemed to come out.

Changing the subject: "so….where is mother?"

"She is training right now; being a ditz." He replied with amusement in his voice. I forced yet another ghost of a smile. Father still liked to tease my mother for being silly about drinking blood and killing people.

"Right."

"I'm tired of walking like a human. Come." I watched my father stretch out his hands and open up a portal for us. I stepped inside without question.

"Yes, father."

XXX

"Welcome home!" The familiar cheery voice of my mother sounded as she wrapped her arms around me. I could have sworn my eyes bulged a little from the sudden intensity. She pulled back and beamed at me. My mother was just a few inches taller than me but acted like a four year old sometimes. I hugged her back halfheartedly while she squeezed me tightly.

"Seras…you're killing her." My father's voice sounded amused. She let go and put a hand behind her head and blushed in embarrassment.

"Sorry! Sorry! My bad." Her soprano voice was a softly pitched English. In many ways she was the antithesis to my father. Who was tall, dark, and handsome. She was short and cut. Her porcelain skin was soft and perfect. Her strawberry blonde hair was cropped short. Unlike my father's disdainful eyes, hers were big and wide and red. She had a rather curvy body with very full breasts. I have to admit this did give me some hope for my future and dread I suppose. In addition to the curves she wore an army-looking uniform with a miniskirt instead of pants.

"How was the mission?" She squeaked: happy as a clam. Senior Officer Seras Victoria for you, alright.

"Fine." I watched my mother's eyes trail down my length and widen in horror at the site of the hole in my clothing. her." father stretch out his hands and open up a portal for us. I stepped inside without question. for being silly abou

"You were hurt?!" My mother was frantic now. I watched with a bored face as she began to run around in circles of blind panic. My father merely chuckled with amusement.

"She's fine. She's fine. She has already healed herself." Mother stopped panicking and bent down to look at my new smooth piece of flesh.

"See mom? Everything's alright. Really." I tried to reassure her.

"What did you get hit with?" She demanded.

"A very crappy shotgun. I think it was a 12-gauge but I didn't get a close enough look. Well anyways…it's fine. Honestly mom, you worry too much." She straightened up and scratched her head.

"Well you may b right but you're still my little girl!" A dead look appeared in my eyes as her words penetrated me. _My little girl. Liar. _

"Heh…" I attempted a laugh but failed miserably. "Well, I suppose if you don't need me for anything…I think I'm going to go to bed."

"Oh right," my mother said with a shaky smile.

"Master doesn't need me for anything else tonight, does she?" My father shook his head.

"No, you may go to sleep now."

"Well…are you sure you don't want to stay out here with us a bit longer?" My mother said hopefully.

"No…no thanks. Well, good day then." I turned my back onto them and opened up a portal to my room.

"Have a good day Keira," my father told my retreating back.

"Yeah…good…" I mumbled I slipped into the portal and teleported myself to my room down in the dungeons.

XXX

My room consisted of a spacious regular four wall design. A plush black area rug covered its entirety. Bookshelves covered two of the walls and were filled with many ancient and recent books that were still being added on little by little. Opposite them lay a large black coffin which was big enough to fit my father in it. I liked a lot of room. Inscribed upon the left side of it was the first four stanzas from the poem "A Dream" by Edgar Allan Poe.

In visions of the dark night

I have dreamed of joy departed

But a waking dream of life and light

Hath left me broken-hearted

I hadn't inscribed anything upon the front yet because I fear I am still too young. Father told me he would have something inscribed for me when I was older; _much_ older, in fact. I turned my attention to a large table in front of the bookshelves. It was my desk/dining/work table. I was still in the process of learning how to design, service, and create weapons. Granddad Walter sometimes came down to my room to show me how. He had been teaching me since I learned how to shoot at four years old.

I felt a small wave of relief wash over me as I saw a large wine bottle filled with blood waiting for me. A delicate-looking wine glass lay next to it. I sat down in my chair and poured a generous amount. I took a pull from it. The taste, the smell, the texture…it all danced upon my tongue in happiness. Unlike my mother I had no aversion to drinking blood. I loved drinking it, in fact. Though I had never experienced what it was like to take from the source. In a way I was glad about that fact. Because then I definitely know I would become squeamish and even more of a disappointment to my father.

I drank deeply and rubbed my temples. I couldn't seem to coax away the splitting headache I now possessed. I forced back a sigh. Since I was born I had developed the early promise signs of my father's powers. Such as the ability to manipulate shadows, create familiars, change shape, teleport, telekinesis, and of course the traditional heightened senses and physical strength and speed. However, there was one thing that I had no control over. The one thing I loathed about myself above all else. That was my telepathy.

For many years it has gotten the best of me. The echoes of voices liked to etch themselves into the walls of my skull over and over again. Though I do think that I have gotten a little better at dealing with my telepathy, at least. I no longer feel the need to stop every five minutes and wither on the ground in agony. No. I save that for during the day when I am asleep and the voices can turn to nightmares.

I downed the rest of my blood and stood. I shuffled over to my bathroom. It was a fairly spacious washroom with a nice bathtub and shower. I turned the brass knobs on the tub and watched as hot jets of water poured forth. Steam began to rise, as did the water. I emptied the last bit of my Sweetpea bubble bath into the water. I shed my clothes and set my gun on the stool beside the bath. Slipping into the scolding hot water, I felt my muscles begin to relax. I sighed in content and closed my eyes.

When the water had finally lost the majority of its warmth I stepped out. I dried myself up and then wrapped myself in a very comfortable robe. I walked over to my vanity sink and began my nightly routine. I dried my hair. I cleaned my ears. I brushed my teeth. I had just finished fishing a little piece of dust out of my eye when I stopped for a moment to really look at myself.

I was an okay-looking girl of fifteen years. I stood at a measly five feet and three inches. My snowy white skin was flawless, however it looked gaunt in some lights. My elbow-length black tresses fell in a cascading waterfall of waves around my shoulders and my blunt heavy bangs fell into my eyes slightly. My figure was not curvy or as attractive as my mother's. It was slim, lithe, and held medium full breasts. My dark rosy lips when parted held a mouthful of razor sharp teeth and two exceptionally long canines.

I stared into the eyes of the girl staring back. The last item to be addressed now shone with disdain. It was what made me different from all the others. It was what reaffirmed the fact that I could never be accepted. My eyes. They were big and wide and rimmed with long black lashes. They were the color of sweet forbidden nectar: crimson. Those unnatural…awful….repulsive eyes.

Vampire eyes.

I turned away from my reflection because I was too tempted to break the mirror. I didn't want to admit that I liked the color. How it was so sweet to look upon, like fresh blood. I blew out a sigh and went to go change into a white cotton nightgown. I then went to my coffin. The door automatically swung open for me.

I smiled in my mind. I loved my coffin. I had been given it when I was born. Or I should say, when I had died. For you see I was born as a normal human baby until exactly thirteen hours later I stopped breathing and my heart stopped beating. My chestnut eyes closed and blood was poured into my mouth by my parents. Two bites marks on the hollow of my throat still scarred from where they both had bitten me. They laid me down into my coffin so the vampiric transformation could occur. I grew into the fifteen year old girl I was now. My eyes opened to observe the world in a blood-casted glow.

I lay down in the black silk lining of Ares – my coffin's name which meant the Greek God of War – closing it shut, I was engulfed in it's wonderful darkness. Outside of a vampire's coffins, the vampire can see perfectly in the dark. In the sun it is generally blind. The only time a vampire experiences true darkness is in the confines of its coffin. A blissful treat.

I tried for sleep but it evaded me. I thought back to the night of blood and gore I had just experienced. The shouts of the thoughts that came to me did nothing to help. I noticed many of the new recruits were having nightmares. It's just as expected, considering the fact that they did witness horror unlike no other. I clutched my head and closed my eyes. I curled up into a small ball of whimpers and pain.

I concentrated as hard as I could to block out the voices. I tried to focus on my coffin. Perhaps if I focused on one thing in particular it would distract me from the voices. I clutched at my head harder as the voices continued to hit me. I'm not sure how long it was until the storm quieted. I relaxed myself. I lay on top of my blankets in a heap of exhaustion. Memories of the night still haunted me. I was too tired though to give them anymore thought. After all it was just another night; just another kill.


End file.
